


Of Bright Eyes and Ballrooms

by Natasha_Rostova



Series: Of Bright Eyes [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Castles, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Romance, This was definitely inspired by Cinderella 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-04-07 15:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19087408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasha_Rostova/pseuds/Natasha_Rostova
Summary: During the Festival of Kings, Nerdanel finds a chance to reunite with Fëanáro.





	1. In which Nerdanel visits the palace

**Author's Note:**

> The second installment to the Bright Eyes Series! I’m so excited to share this with you!
> 
> If you haven’t already, please read the previous installments in this series before continuing.

Oh how warm. The sand and waves. The light of the trees, the light of his smile. And his eyes.

Oh his eyes. How rich and dark and deep. Full of wonder and complexity. And oh so lost. Lost in himself. Lost in her. Lost.

“Nerdanel.” The daydream shattered. The memory splintering before her eyes.

“What? what? What’s going on?” Nerdanel’s heart races. What was the matter? She scans the table. Frantically meeting her fathers gaze. Mahtan’s stare was soft however, smile slightly tugging at his lips.

“You’re not eating your dinner. Is everything alright? You seem lost.” His eyes said he knew however. Mischief laced in his gaze. 

“Yes, of course. Fine. I’m fine. I just.” Nerdanel tries to sit as straight as she can. Faking some sense of composure. “I’m fine.” He hums. 

“Of course,” Mahtan returns to his food, still smirking.

“I’m fine!” Her defense stumbles out more broken then she intends, and it only makes her Atar’s smile grow.

“I said ‘of course.’ Did you not hear me?” His expression says concern, but his eyes say mischief.

“Atar!” Nerdanel cannot help but feel distressed. Must Atar’s always pick on their children? Finally he laughs, soft yet deep and face aglow. 

“Are you thinking about the party? You’re not nervous are you?” The Festival Of Kings. Nerdanel and her family had never attended before. Too disinterested in politics. But tonight, Nerdanel would attend alone. Oh the palace. Fëanor had mentioned he was an apprentice. An apprentice at the palace. He would be there. He would. She could see him again. Feel him again. And oh his eyes. Nerdanel swallows her fantasies this time.

“Atar, I am never nervous.” He raises an eyebrow. “I was merely debating on what to wear.” Somewhere deep in her soul Nerdanel finds composure, Atar was not about to get the best of her. “I don’t think I have anything fancy enough for a party at the palace.”

“What need is there for something fancy? Unless of course you’re looking for someone to impress.” The smirk again. And the eyebrow raise. Nerdanel furrows her own brows.

“Atar, I am being serious.”

“Won’t you even tell me his name?”

“No.” Nerdanel huffs. Must he always know everything? Must he always pry? “I have to get ready.” Mahtan just smiles.

Removing herself from the table, Nerdanel all but runs to her room. 

Leaving against her door, Nerdanel sighs to herself. How impossible this was.

Mentally she goes through her wardrobe, nothing seemed to be enough. Every dress was too plain. She was going to the palace. The palace. Sure it wasn’t the Temple. But-

Temple. 

Her Temple dresses.

Rushing over to her special wardrobe, Nerdanel flings open the doors. Gowns of white and lace fill her vision. Soft tulle and chiffon grace each white dress. Pure and simple in design. She had gotten a new dress last week. It was supposed to be unveiled at her next begetting day, yet. Nerdanel rips it from the rack and rushes to change. She’ll have other begetting days. 

The gown is simplistic in itself, lightweight layers make up the skirt, flowing and floating with every move. The bodice forms a deep v-neck, meeting at the belt that starts the skirt. Soft flowing sleeves line her arms, before cuffing at her wrists. The white is a symbol of purity, the color of Manwë and his house. 

Yet, thinking of seeing Fëanáro again, Nerdanel imagines she has ruined the pure nature of the gown.

Despite being the nicest dress she owns, the mirror tells her how plain she looks. Face ruddy and hair pinned losely. The voices that haunt her younger years creep into her head. 

Red-faced. 

Ruddy. 

Plain. 

Nerdanel can’t help the wave of fear that threatens to drown her. Her head swims with the idea of intricate gowns and embroidered capes. Expensive jewelry and fancy hairstyles. Glitter and glamour. And her. She wasn’t pretty. Her features were uninteresting and clothed in a simple Temple gown, her deep seated insecurities find a home. Such things had not haunted her since childhood. However, she was going to the palace. A place filled with self obsessed individuals who had nothing better to do than fawn over themselves. And even amongst the common folk, Nerdanel had never been fawned over. 

She was outmatched. A sigh.

It wasn’t as if she was impressing royalty, not that they deserved it. She was simply going to find Fëanáro. She’d see him, and together they could escape the party and wander the beach again. She would be confident and charming, and despite her simple dress and features, she would impress him. Nerdanel nods to herself. Yes. Simple. This was simple. It could be just like that day on the beach. Warm. And soft. And just like all her daydreams. Not that she would tell anyone. 

Nerdanel tries to leave her sense of dread in her bedroom and rushes downstairs. If she was going to walk to the palace, she would have to leave right away. 

Her atar is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, hands hidden behind his back.

“There’s my princess,” His smile is full of love. More love than Nerdanel can fathom. Yet she can see some sort of sadness laced behind his eyes. He blinks it away. “I made you something, it was supposed to be for your begetting day. But I can see we’ve already ruined the new dress idea.” Nerdanel laughs breathlessly.

“Yes. I just.” Nerdanel finds her confident facade faded. “I just want to look nice.” Despite the simple statement Nerdanel finds herself on the brink of tears. The fear from before building in her stomach. “I want to look pretty.” How red her face must be. Ruddy.

“Nerdanel, you don’t need your nicest dress to look pretty.” Mahtan reaches to brush stay hairs behind her ear. Nerdanel blinks the water from her eyes. Tears were for children. 

“Thank you atar.” Her voice is weak and unconvincing, yet she hopes he understands her thankfulness. Even if she doesn’t quite believe the compliment. “I’m sorry I stormed off earlier.” She moves her voice to a whisper. “I guess I’m just frightened.” Mahtan sighs gently and holds one of his hands to her face. Nerdanel leans into the comfort all too willingly.

“You must hold your head high my love, otherwise your new hairpiece may fall.” From behind his back her atar revels a golden hairpiece. Designed with golden leaves and flowers, the hair comb glimmers in the light. 

“Oh atar,” With gentle hands, Nerdanel lifts the hairpin to the tree light. “It’s perfect.”  
Nerdanel quickly hands the pin to her father and turns so he may place in on top of her low updo. “Thank you so much.” Facing her atar again, Nerdanel hugs him as tight as she can manage, tears pricking at her eyes. 

“Anything for you my love,” Mahtan presses a kiss to her forehead, before pulling away. “Now, don't you have a elf to impress?” She laughs.

“Yes. Yes I do.” Straightening her posture, Nerdanel kisses her atar’s face, and rushes to get her coat.

The walk is long. Opting for the backroads, Nerdanel weaves herself through their town. As long as she kept her head down, and only searched for her Fëanáro, all would be well. Carriages filled with laughter still pass her however, despite her avoidance of the main road, the occasional party will cross her path.

Even their carriages are fancy. Laced in gold trims and dark wood. Despite her best efforts, Nerdanel cannot completely swallow the lump of insecurity that sits in her. That eats at her. 

Fëanáro.

She could think of Fëanáro instead. 

He did not think less of her.

Maybe. He seemed to like her. 

Seemed.

Oh dear. These thoughts only lead to a worse idea. What if he had not thought of her? What if he had been disinterested? He seemed to care. He had stared. That was for certain. What if he was staring at her in disgust? What if he was merely entertaining himself with her quaintness? 

Nerdanel shakes her head. No. No. What she had felt that day was not disinterest. It was. It was enchanted. 

And it must have been shared. 

It must have been.

Before she has time to imagine another dreaded scenario, Nerdanel finds herself faced with the gates of the palace. 

How ugly.

Splattered in unnecessary gold and statues, Nerdanel has always found the castle of the Noldor to be an eyesore. It was showy and lavish. As if the King and Queen mattered more than the Temple of the Valar. Nerdanel rolls her eyes. The only thing Nerdanel new for certain about the royals was the current Queen was as ostentatious as they come.

Perhaps if her atar designed the new palace it would look nicer.

Crowds of elves gather and move up the staircase. Adored in marvelous headpieces and endless ball gowns. Some have handmaid's carrying their dress train. Yet instead of intimidated, Nerdanel just finds herself irritated.

How much gorgeous stone had they wasted on useless embellishments. How much work had these elves put into one eve. One party. It was ridiculous. Huffing, Nerdanel pushes down any doubts and rushes up the stairs. Everyone was walking at an unnecessary slow pace. What for? Was it a race for the slowest walk? 

As quickly and quietly as possible Nerdanel ignores the extravagance of the palace and rushes inside.

The ballroom is even more pretentious than the gates. Despite its intention to attract her eyes, Nerdanel ignores it all. The gold can wait.

The crowd is a massive sea of elves. And yet. Her eyes see him instantly. Standing near the center of the room, Fëanáro stands with two other elves, seeming irritated.

“What’s your name my dear?” A voice breaks her trance. An elf stands tall, a greeter.

“Oh, Nerdanel. My name is Nerdanel.” She can’t help but feel flushed.

“Do you have a title my dear?” His expression is kind, but Nerdanel feels knots tying in her stomach. She merely shakes her head. He nods in return.

“May I present, Nerdanel.”

Faster than she can blink, Nerdanel watches Fëanáro whip his head to her direction. Shock and awe written on his face. 

The walk down the staircase seems longer than her walk to the palace. As her eyes stay perfectly trained on Fëanáro, each step takes a lifetime to get to him. To get closer.

And there they meet. In the middle of the ballroom. The crowd seems to have parted for them, giving them space as they nearly stand chest to chest.

And there he was. Tall and dressed in gold. Hair pinned and placed perfectly, eyes as dark and deep as she remembered.

“Fëanáro.” All the glitter, the music, the crowd and their chatter, are gone in an instant. All Nerdanel can hear is the beating of her heart and Fëanáro’s light breaths. Her head is swimming and her heart is leaping and dancing in circles around the room. 

“Nerdanel.” His voice is merely a whisper, eyes scanning her face with a delicate wonder. His expression is so soft, fragile and graced with an intricate enchantment. Much kinder than he had seemed that first day. More relaxed, more elegant. Nerdanel feels as if they stand there forever, wonderstruck and enchanted. Lost in some sparkling haze. Where had her confidence gone? She had imagined that things would be the same as that day on the beach. Soft and curious. She imagined that she would be bold and brave. She would sweep him away and impress him with her wit. But looking at him now, all she could think of was the warmth in her soul. 

“You’re here.” Nerdanel instantly regretted the response. Witty. She was supposed to be witty and aloof. Not wonderstruck. How was she supposed to impress him if she couldn’t even speak? Stupid feelings. Stupid Fëanáro. With his perfect hair and delightful stare.When had she gotten so weak? When had her insides melted into warmth and butterflies?

“Yes of course I’m-” He pauses, considering her for a moment. “How did you get here, how are you-” He reaches toward her, as if to place his hand on her shoulders, but stops short.

“I walked.” Although her comment is presented as a joke, her tone and expression betray her. Voice airy and gentle. Fëanáro laughs breathlessly. Before shifting into a helpless smile.

“Walked? How-” Concern laces his features, but the start of music interrupts him. Surprise quickly replaces his look of care. “Will you-” He’s looking at her intently now, “That is, would you mind-” 

“Will you dance with me?” Nerdanel pulls some courage from deep in her soul and interrupts him. He laughs breathlessly again, eyes bright.

“Yes. Of course I will.” Fëanáro smiles. 

“Good.” Although faking confidence, Nerdanel is entriety too aware she had painted herself in a corner. Nerdanel knew nothing of dancing, and now she-

His hand on her waist. And his face oh so close to hers. Breathless and wonderstruck. Oh.

Oh.

All at once the music returns, swelling and swirling around her, leading her in a dance of the heart. They had only met once before. Once. Yet Nerdanel could follow his lead with ease. Every step, every movement, as if they had danced before. As if they could dance forever. Not wishing to lose herself, Nerdanel breaks the spell.

“Who taught you how to dance?” She tries to sound aloof, but Nerdanel finds she sounds more awestruck. Fëanáro laughs lightly. 

“You really don’t know who I am?” He questions, Nerdanel can’t help but frown in response.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” What was he implying? Had she forgotten parts of their meeting? Had he mentioned dancing before? He just laughs again. Wonderstruck it seems.

“What do you know about Finwë, King of our people?” Nerdanel fails to see what this had to do with dancing, but allows him to lead the conversation. 

“I must admit, I am quite uninterested in policies and politics.” She removes her gaze from his face, staring at the embroidery on his coat. Why must he always put her on the spot? Nerdanel shifts her tone to a whisper, “In all honesty, I do not think I am capable of naming his current wife.” Instead of a breathless laugh, Fëanáro nearly stumbles them both, laughing too loudly for her liking.

“I’m not completely unfamiliar!” Nerdanel is quick to defend herself. Nerdanel can feel her face becoming warm. Instantly she wishes to remove herself from his arms and storm out. How dare he laugh at her in front of all these people. Handsome as he was, and clever, and even if he had completely consumed her dreams and thoughts, she was not about to be made a fool. She was not about to play subpar. So instead she stays, just to prove how capable she is. “I am aware he has a son. Around my age,” Nerdanel was not about to admit she only knew this because every year, a week before her begetting day, the inner cities had large festivals in his honor. 

“Are you now?” Fëanáro raises an eyebrow and smirks slightly, as if she is unaware of a secret. This only causes Nerdanel to frown further. He guides her past a group of elves that stare all too intently at him. The two from earlier. Dressed in clothing strangely similar to his own.

“Yes. I am.” She tries to make her tone as sharp as possible. “Just because I am not consumed by the affairs and gossip of others does not mean I am foolish!” As much as she tries to keep a cool head, her voice becomes slightly raised. “If anything, it is foolish to look to imperfect elves for guidance and praise them as if they were the Valar.” Shock written on his features, it is almost as if he wishes to challenge her, before he masks it with a breathless laugh. Eyes glimmering at her with wonder.

“That’s fair enough I suppose.” He smiles brighty. She huffs, and his face instantly softens. “I hope you know I wasn’t laughing at you. Your viewpoint is refreshing. That’s all.” 

“If you are attempting to apologize, I accept.” 

“Yes, I was.” The wonder laced features have returned to his face, eyes a glow with something Nerdanel can feel in her very soul. “Thank you, for forgiving me.”

Before she can respond, the song ends. As does the haze in her head.


	2. In which Nerdanel yells on the palace steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry it took so long

Nerdanel finds herself taking shaky breaths. Despite the end of the music, Fëanáro doesn’t move, hand still holding hers, and the other rubbing circles into her waist. The gentle notion only deepens the cloud in her head. He's just gazing at her, eyes so bright and warm and-

“Fëanáro!” The fog is dispersed, if only slightly, by a voice. Though to Nerdanel, everything besides Fëanáro seems muffled. Yet, Fëanáro seems almost provoked at the uninvited voice. Eyes narrowing at the owner. Gaze abruptly stiff and stoic. Exactly like that day on the beach. Nerdanel lazily tilts her head just enough to make out their faces. 

It’s the elves from earlier. The ones who stared. The ones in garments matching Fëanáro’s. The soft feeling of Fëanáro next to her still clouds her head too much to process them. Siblings perhaps? But why would siblings all work at the palace? Why-

“Won’t you introduce us?” The one on the left asks. Although his garments match Fëanáro, they look nothing alike. His hair is golden and eyes are soft. A deep sense of hope is written on his face, impressed on delicate features. 

He is nothing like Fëanáro. 

“No.” Fëanáro answers, voice unamused despite the compassion written across the features of the golden elf. Before she even has time to process the assertion, Fëanáro grabs her hand and pulls her in the opposite direction, leading Nerdanel out of the ballroom. The jolt is enough to wake her from her light-headed state. 

The guise has returned. Fëanáro's whole energy has changed. He seems angered and rigid. Despite his sudden air of bitterness, Nerdanel can't help but see right through it all, and feel the warmth of his hand in hers. 

They now stand in an empty hallway, lit lightly by the trees gleam that seeps through cracks in the velvet curtains. The noise of the party muffled as they stand in silence. Fëanáro huffs, still holding her hand.

"Why must those little irritants always pry." Fëanáro murmurs. His soft features from earlier have melted into sharp edges. What duality he had presented her with. He seemed so, detached. Yet present. So cold. And yet what warmth she felt when he looked at her. She didn't mean to sound so full of herself. Yet, his actions to others and his actions to her seemed as black and white. Soft to her. Harsh to others. 

Odd.

How odd and intricate and intoxicating he was. 

"I hardly see an issue with introductions." Nerdanel interrupts his mumbling, a gentle attempt to restore his mood, "As much as I dislike formalities, I'm afraid I don't see your distaste." Fëanáro looks up at her, brows still furrowed.

"I just-" He scans her thoughtfully. Eyes full of so much. So much hidden before her. However, in a second it's gone, melting into his aloof composure and a smirk. "I forget your distaste for politics, forgive me for losing myself to them." Politics? What did his rudeness have to do with politics? 

"I'm afraid I still don't understand," Nerdanel says, and Fëanáro smirks. That stupid smile. The secret smile. As if he knows everything.

Nerdanel huffs and yanks her hand from his with a mischievous smile. A childish act of defiance she must admit, but she couldn't help it. 

Fëanáro's mask slips, if only for a moment, and looks like an upset child. A small pout and wide eyes. Yet it disappears almost instantly, replaced by the smirk again. 

"Fancy a walk around the garden?" Fëanáro quickly maneuvers the conversion, and despite wishing to protest, Nerdanel finds herself grinning. His eyes are gleaming with something she can't place, something wonderful and complex. Fëanáro extends his arm.

"If that is your second attempt at an apology this evening, I once again accept." Linking her arm with his, Nerdanel motions for him to lead.

"Must I always be apologizing to you?" Fëanáro mocks lightly, still smiling at her.

"Yes," Nerdanel responds curtly, mischief woven in her expression.

Oh, it was so wonderful to hear his laugh.

The garden is much more beautiful than the golden nausea of the palace.

As they walk down the stairs leading out of the palace and into the backyard, Nerdanel truly feels at peace. Although, she reasons to herself that it's not just the garden bringing her serenity.

His breathing was so soft and slow. 

Lush hedges and blue blossoms line the pebbled walkways, an indistinguishable floral scent fills Nerdanel's head, further fueling the wonderstruck air Fëanáro's company gives her. The garden expands into a large meadow, scattered with perfectly placed wildflowers and willows, centered by a large water fountain. The simple and elegant gardens seem so different from the palace. If Nerdanel remembered correctly, the gardens had been designed by Finwë's first wife. Míríel was it? Whatever it was. The delicate aesthetic was much more delightful to Nerdanel.

"So you walked?" Fëanáro maintains a steady walking pace as he asks her. Eyes switching between the cobbled path and Nerdanel.

"I didn't have any other options." Nerdanel shugs. "I couldn't take the horse, Atar needed to make a delivery tonight."

"A delivery?" Fëanáro stops to look to her, one eyebrow raised.

"Some Countess or something ordered a circlet. I think she was wearing it for the festival." Nerdanel answers thoughtfully, before turning to Fëanáro with a slight grimace. "You know she had the nerve to order it merely a few cycles ago? As if my Atar has nothing better to do then to cater to her whims? He practically slaved away to get it done on time." Nerdanel signs and leans into Fëanáro's arm. "I suppose I just feel bad for him."

"What a terrible thing for her to do." Nerdanel feels Fëanáro shake his head. "Does your Atar have any assistance?" He resumes their walk, drifting to a willow on the outskirts of the estate. Nerdanel merely shakes her head.

"I do wish he would take an apprentice. Try as I might, forge work doesn't seem to be my calling." Nerdanel laughs before turning melancholy again. What was it about Fëanáro that made her emotions skip rope? Exposing her very soul to someone she just met last week. ”That is one reason why I can't stand nobility. They act as if everyone else is merely here to attend to them."

"While I understand your perspective, I must differ with you. If only slightly." Fëanáro halts again, staring at the fountain. "I am confident not all are so dreadful. Do not be mistaken, I know that many in the noble class are wicked at best. Yet I wish you could see the good as well." Despite his aloof mask, Nerdanel could feel some sense of distress in his tone. Pushing it aside, Nerdanel answers.

"The good? I implore you to look around. Every section of this giant monument of a castle is covered in gold and glitter. They see themselves as greater than the Valar themselves. It just upsets me, that's all." Nerdanel knows instantly what she's said hurts him. For Fëanáro unlinks their arms and moves to face her, a strange look across his face.

"What is with you and the Valar? When was the last time any of them in their temples and thrones ever showed any interest in the common lives of elf folk?" Fëanáro has a stern look on his face, the dreamy haze gone. Nerdanel squares her shoulders and pushes back. 

"When was the last time King Finwë got off his throne and mingled among the lower classes? You know despite the mix of classes at this festival, no nobility will leave their boxes and even say hello to someone of my stance." Nerdanel retorts. How could he make her so mad so quickly? She throws up her arms. "He's so absorbed by his new wife and children he forgets his duty to his people."

At the mention of family Fëanáro's face turns dark.

"You didn't answer my question." His voice was low and serious. Perhaps she had crossed some invisible line.

"Nor did you answer mine." Despite the feeling in her stomach that says she shouldn't press the issue any further, Nerdanel can't seem to stop herself. 

Suddenly something twinkles in Fëanáro’s eyes, and some tension in his face is removed.

"I think it would be unwise of you to disgrace King Finwë in his own home." The knowing smirk tugs at Fëanáro's lips. Some of the tension in his face is gone as if his secret had eased him.

"What is unwise is the placement of regular elves on altars. The royals did not create life. They live it just the same as everyone else." Fëanáro looks thoughtful, debating something to himself.

"Perhaps we're both right. In own ways." He says finally. It's a weak attempt to disperse the argument. He doesn't seem convinced. Yet Nerdanel takes the olive branch anyway.

"There is no right in petty arguing. Perhaps we are both wrong." Nerdanel extends her hand to him.

"You are so curious." He takes her hand and as if it were that easy, the disagreement melts into nothing, drowned out by the warmth of his smile at her. She can't help but smile back.

"So are you." 

They wander in silence for a few moments as if debating the reasoning of the other. Yet Nerdanel finds their arms linked again, as they walk close enough to hear each other's breathing. 

"You know I've never backed out of an argument before," Nerdanel admits before thinking.

"Nor have I," Fëanáro responds looking at the ground with a smile.

How strange and new all of this was. She had been so mad at him moments ago, yet it didn't seem to matter anymore. Agree or disagree, all that seemed to matter was the peace they had settled in. The restful haze they always seemed to settle in.

"How's the sculpture of your Atar coming along?" Fëanáro breaks the silence, looking over at her.

"Just fine I suppose" 

"You suppose?"

"I still yearn for real marble." Nerdanel sighs as she catches sight of a marble statue in front of them. Some elven figure standing triumphantly. "Perhaps if I liberated that hideous statue I could take it home and turn it until my father," Nerdanel says wistfully. 

Fëanáro bursts into breathless giggles, squeezing her hand lightly.

“Yes, if only.” He hums once his laughter has subsided.

“You would help me carry it out wouldn’t you?” Nerdanel leans on his shoulder and looks at him with a mischievous grin.

“I’d do anything for-” He stiffens, “to help you. I’d do anything to help you.” He tries to smile lightly, but the wonder is there again. Bright eyes laced with so much Nerdanel yearned to know.

And there in the middle of the gardens, Nerdanel feels her heart stop. 

“You’ve only known me a week.” She whispers, heart skipping beats as everything but them faded into white noise.

“And oh how it feels like forever.” He was so near. Voice so quiet and delicate. The haze was back. Slipping her in a fog that glitters and glows. Needless to say, Nerdanel wished to drown in it.

How right he was. How few exchanges they have had, yet. She cannot seem to recall a moment before him. A moment before he had consumed her waking thoughts and restless nights. How much they could say to one another without words. How much she understood of him, yet how much of a mystery he was to her. How refreshing his thoughts were. How complex he was. How they disagreed, yet how it never seemed to matter. How all mattered, in the end, was his eyes fixed on hers.

How marvelous it was to play this intoxicating game of wits with him.

“Prince Fëanáro!” 

Prince Fëanáro?

The spell is destroyed. Nerdanel can practically see the splinters of the moment break around her. Fëanáro's eyes widen. A palace guard quickly moves toward them, but what he says next is faded to white, as she sinks into reality.

Prince Fëanáro?

Prince. 

He was.

Prince Fëanáro.

Finwë’s first born.

The son around her age.

It was as if all the puzzle pieces clicked all at once.

The siblings he hated.

The hash edges paired with complicated smiles.

Nerdanel finds her head spinning, unlike the magical lightheadedness from earlier, the feeling is paired with a sick pull of treachery in her gut.

He was the Prince. 

The Crown Prince.

He had lied.

Had let her rant about royalty.

He had let her say all those secret awful things.

And he had let her come here and make a fool of herself. Ditzy and wonderstruck. 

As if a Prince would actually care for her. 

Simple dress. Red face. 

Plain.

Fëanáro is staring at her, mouth agape. As if he can read her mind, he instantly reaches out. 

“Nerdanel, I can explain.” His touch feels like fire, and Nerdanel jerks away. Despite the sting of tears threatening to leak, she keeps her composure.

“Thank you for the evening. I have to get home.” Nerdanel cuts him off, and with a curt nod, she turns and rushes back to the palace. Nerdanel can vaguely hear Fëanáro shouting something to the guard as she runs.

Her stomach twists. She had trusted him. To think that she actually…

She had almost kissed the Crown Prince of the Noldor.

The ballroom has lost its glitter. And when she renters, everyone’s eyes on her fill her with dread, not wonder. 

Everyone knew. Everyone knew. And they let her act like a fool. The sick feeling turns and twists in her chest.

“Nerdanel!” He’s following behind her now. Her anger grows, yet Nerdanel tries to ignore him. Yelling and crying won't help. She has played the fool enough this evening.

The steps leading out of the palace seem more intimidating now as Nerdanel rushes out. 

She had been so so foolish. No one could like her. No one has ever liked her. No one so witty and complicated and dizzying could like her. 

Nerdanel hears him still following after her. 

Hasn't he humiliated her enough? Let her bare her soul and said all those things about his family. 

“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t-” Finally at the bottom of the steps, Fëanáro catches up and grabs her arm. All Nerdanel sees is red. Turning to face him, and away from prying eyes, Nerdanel finally speaks her mind.

“You didn’t what? Didn't mean to lie to me? Didn’t mean to deceive me!” She can feel tears blur her vision, “You were just toying with me! What do you think it’s funny to mingle among the “lesser” folk?” Despite her blurred vision, Nerdanel can see the hurt written across his face, yet her anger speaks before her head can calm her down. “Well excuse me your highness but I don’t enjoy being a pawn! Especially for people like you! But you would know that! I said those things! I told you! And you let me! And you’re one of them!”

Despite her wishes, she can’t will herself to move. Nerdanel just stands there, chest heaving. Tears streaming down her face. She felt childish. This was so-

What was she waiting for?

Why couldn’t she just-

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Fëanáro says, his face wrapped with so much emotion. Anger and hurt and confusion and fear. “You were just so different. And you saw me. I mean really saw me.” His eyebrows furrow, as he stares at her earnestly, “I guess I was afraid you wouldn’t see me anymore if I told you the truth.” 

A new sinking feeling sits in her chest. As much as she hurt, as much as she burned, she believed him. 

How could she not? Staring back at him, Nerdanel felt that warm feeling in her chest. The feeling she didn’t believe existed before him. The feeling you cannot fake. Perhaps it was- 

Before she can even imagine what to say next, he continues.

“I mean, I’m the Crown Prince and you’re yelling at me in my front yard.” Fëanáro throws his arms up, gesturing to the palace. He laughs yet his smile is sad. "You don’t care. About the gold or the crowns and I-” He grasps her hand tightly, "You came back. You came here. Not because I have things or titles. You came back to see me. Me. And I guess I just. I wanted to be myself.” Nerdanel can see the tears in his eyes, the earnest expression, and Nerdanel just felt stupid. 

Stupid.

Stupid.

She was being so stupid.

Stupid pride.

“Fëanáro, I-” Her heart hurts. It hurts to see him hurt. To know that she hurt him. To know that he truly cared and that she had misjudged his intentions. Just because of his crown. He interrupts.

“No I-“ Fëanáro rubs at his eyes, “Nerdanel I came back to you too. Because of what you said! Because you had a mind of your own. Because you ask too many questions, because the gold is ugly to you. Because you make your own way.” His voice is cracked, and face red, but he doesn’t seem to care, eyes locked on her, “Because I’ve never had someone be nice to me just because they wanted to.”

This sick feeling was so new. When had her happiness depended so much on his? Nerdanel can't find words, and they stand like that, shaking breaths and trembling hands. Nerdanel sighs, and rubs at her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles, “I’m just so sorry.” 

"No, no," He reaches out and grabs her hands, “I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have lied. I should have trusted you.” He laughs breathlessly, “I suppose I just don’t know how.” 

Nerdanel feels her heart stop once more, and then she laughs in return, pulling away from him and wiping her eyes.

“What a pair we are.” She smiles at him, reaching out to wipe his cheek. 

He seems frozen for a moment, before holding his hand against hers, eyes wide.

“Would you like to walk me home?” Nerdanel says, voice small and cracked. Almost pathetic. 

“Yes." His eyes light up. "If you’d let me.” Fëanáro's voice is a whisper. He seems unsure. How strange he was. The cold exterior only hid fear and an unsteady heart. Perhaps her's did too.

“Yes. Please.” Nerdanel stands back and brushes of her dress. Extending her hand, Fëanáro takes it almost instantly. 

Prince Fëanáro. 

Prince Fëanáro was walking her home.

While holding her hand.

"Do you get to eat breakfast in bed all the time?"

And right at that moment, Nerdanel reasons she could never grow tired of Fëanáro's laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda think this is terrible, but I just feel a bit rusty, I hope you guys can like it anyway! 
> 
> Don’t worry I’m not done with this series! I have the summary of the next two parts planned!

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed getting to look more into Nerdanel’s mind in this installment. Although she may seem confident, she’s still young, and I imagine there must be some insecurities there. I played with the idea that some didn’t think Nerdanel was the prettiest among her people. They’re wrong of course, but it’s an intriguing story element. Hopefully chapter two can be up soon!
> 
> And yes this is totally inspired by 2015’s Cinderella. And please forgive me, it’s super late and this is unedited
> 
> Make sure to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed! I love hearing feedback from you guys!


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